


Summer Is

by celli



Category: due South
Genre: Chicago, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-06-27
Updated: 2005-06-27
Packaged: 2017-12-15 04:43:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/845450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celli/pseuds/celli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summer from Ray's point of view.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Summer Is

**Author's Note:**

  * For [estrella30](https://archiveofourown.org/users/estrella30/gifts).



> Thanks to meadowlion for the beta.

Summer is flashing temperatures on the bank clock that mock you. Getting a sunburn if you so much as think about going outside. The kind of sweat that sticks you to everything near you--clothes, desk, steering wheel and seat. That sick feeling that's beyond thirst.

It's your radio buzzing with domestic disputes. Kids pushing each other off front stoops for no reason at all but the ever-lovin' heat. Cars with steam billowing out the engines and helpless, furious people standing next to them screaming like you were the one couldn't be bothered to check the oil. Dead bodies baking before you get them, crime scenes where the blood wants to steam off the pavement. Too many cases 'cause everybody and their Uncle Joe takes vacation in the summer, so you've got tourists coming and cops going.

Ray dreads summer.

***

Summer is the hardly believable sight of a Stetson giving in and wilting in the heat. Girls in short-shorts walking past the Consulate. Doubling over with laughter when you catch Fraser's eyes trying to follow and the rest of his face trying to pretend he wasn't tempted.

It's driving Fraser and Dief everywhere because even for them it's too hot to walk. The smell of sweaty wool, which you shouldn't want to smell more of. A trip to the beach with his bare feet in the sand and damp circles under the armpits of his T-shirt. Laughing with him at Dief, who's living his wolfy life from shady spot to shady spot and has to be dragged away from particularly good ones by the two of you.

It's turning on the sprayer on the kitchen faucet one day and accidentally catching Fraser full in the face, and the incredulous look on his dripping face before you both start laughing like crazy people. An undercover assignment at a city pool where everything he has is not only bare but wet, too. Standing in the shower, remembering how he wipes the sweat off the back of his neck and thinking it's a good thing you can't run out of cold like you do hot.

It's trying to look forbidding after the neighborhood kids open a fire hydrant. Hearing even Fraser's lecture on water pressure and ecological waste come out half-hearted. Wading in after him because he thinks he can turn it off, whining about how gross your wet clothes will feel later but really thinking this is the best thing you've felt in weeks. Staring at Fraser, fully clothed and soaking wet, his hair almost black under the Stetson that's still perfectly settled on his head.

It's getting caught staring at Fraser. Reaching out without thinking to take the hat off Fraser's head. Turning and walking away, and listening to the kids cheer as they realize the grownups are leaving the hydrant alone.

Ray loves summer.

***

Summer is the oppressive buildup to a late afternoon storm. The lightning and thunder coming so close together it's like the light cracks and the sound flashes. The sound of big fat drops of rain hitting the window so hard they're almost hail. The way the air leans different on your skin. The way the city seems to sigh and sizzle as the rain hits it.

It's Fraser naked, lying crosswise on the bed. The way some of him tastes like sweat and some of him tastes like rain. How he _lets_ you taste him, dropping his arms to his sides and tipping his head up until the lightning flash shows every line of his face.

It's sticking to each other's skin like hot wool and clammy jeans. How it gets as hot, as sweaty, as scorching between you as the worst day in August ever, and all you can do is push against each other to push the temperature higher. Wanting Fraser's mouth like the last cold beer at a Labor Day picnic, wanting Fraser's hands on you like shade at noon, wanting Fraser in you like nothing you've ever wanted in any season ever.

It's watching Fraser's muscles as he opens the window. Feeling the air so full of rain it's like there's the world's littlest cloud right over them, misting very politely down on them. Sliding back down next to Fraser and breathing again, really breathing, for the first time in months.

Ray never wants summer to end.


End file.
